


Michael's Kamasutra

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Humor, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has control issues...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Michael's Kamasutra

They tried it doggy-style.

That is, they tried it with Michael ‘on his hands and knees’. Michael – fucking Michael – didn’t like the images associated with an expression such as ‘doggy-style’.

“We are not dogs, Lincoln,” he said sternly.

 _No, but you’re a little bitch_ , Lincoln thought. He kept his mouth shut, though. There was really no point in putting up a fight right now.

So, Michael on his hands and knees. Michael didn’t like it. Beyond his dismay for the expression itself, he didn’t like to have his butt up in the air for anyone to check out. Lincoln pointed out it wasn’t _anyone_ , just him, and he’d already checked out Michael with a fair amount of thoroughness.

Michael didn’t buy it.

—

They tried it with Michael lying on his stomach and Lincoln lying on Michael, pressed flat from head to toes, skin smoothly sliding against skin, muscles deliciously rubbing against muscles.

“Aren’t I crushing you?” asked Lincoln, a bit concerned.

“Yes, but I like it.”

Lincoln wasn’t sure he’d correctly understood the answer. Too beautiful to be true. But he clearly had, since Michael added he also liked Lincoln’s mouth on his neck, Lincoln whispering sweet nonsense in his ear, and Lincoln’s hands on his arms. The deep thrusting in his ass was nice too.

He did _not_ like, however, not being able to move, his hands pinned under the pillow, and the fact that neither Lincoln nor himself could reach for his shaft – which ended up neglected and roughly pushed into the cushion under his belly.

This, of course, wasn’t okay.

—

They tried it face to face with Michael on his back and... well, it didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. Michael didn’t like it _at all_. Granted, watching Lincoln above him was quite pleasant, not to mention the possibility to kiss. But his legs propped up on Lincoln’s shoulders, his knees almost in his own face? Huh huh. And there still was the freedom of movement issue: he could barely move.

Unacceptable.

—

They tried it lying on their sides, Lincoln tightly spooning Michael, and Michael liked it. A lot. He was totally engulfed in Lincoln’s embrace. He could be petted, fondled and stroked in all the right places. He could feel Lincoln behind him, chest to his shoulders, stomach to his lower back, thighs to his own thighs, hands anywhere they were requested. There was Lincoln’s breath on the side of his face, and the kissing, albeit a bit acrobatic, was pretty hot. And he could move as much as he felt he needed to. He really liked a lot, except...

“For God’s sake, Michael!”

... except he couldn’t watch Lincoln. He really wanted to watch Lincoln.

—

They tried it face to face (again), with Lincoln half lying on his back and half sitting with pillows under his shoulders, Michael straddling his hips. Michael felt pretty happy; he could watch Lincoln, he could stroke him and be stroked, kiss him and be kissed in return, he could move as much and as fast (or slow) as he wanted to. He could control the whole thing and he liked that very, very much. The power trip alone would _almost_ have been enough to get him off.

Lincoln, on the other hand, felt pretty powerless. He was okay with it, though, because at this point, he was okay with anything that would bring him to completion without more fumbling around. The sight of Michael wriggling and squirming in front of him wasn’t bad either. However, when Michael reached for his own cock, it was the last straw. With a frustrated groan, Lincoln slapped his brother’s hand away and replaced it with his own.

“At least, let me _do_ something!”

So Michael laid his hands on Lincoln’s torso and caressed and lightly scratched the damp skin. He liked Lincoln’s gasps, he liked the way Lincoln desperately bucked his hips upward and let his head fall backward, he liked the way Lincoln’s hands clutched at him. He liked... he loved the way Lincoln felt inside him. Actually, he loved it so much he might – might – have said things Lincoln would be happy to remind him at the most inconvenient times. Fucking Lincoln.

—

Michael collapsed onto Lincoln’s chest and, for a few minutes, they just laid there, motionless and panting, trying to catch their breath. In the end, Lincoln kissed Michael’s sweaty forehead, his cheek, his jaw, and then his lips. His hand slide down his brother’s back and rested on his hip, tracing small soothing circles. So sweet, nice and tender.

“Lincoln?” he muttered against Lincoln’s mouth.

“Mmm?”

“It’s sticky.”

“What?”

Michael lowered his eyes to their chests.

“You know... Sticky. I don’t like it.”

Lincoln blinked at him, totally, absolutely, utterly dumbfounded. Then, with a sly grin, he pressed Michael harder against him and rubbed their chests together.

“Deal with it.”

END


End file.
